A handwritten letter still feels special.
Anyone can dash off a text full of abbreviations and emojis that is ambivalent to capitalization and punctuation. But taking the time to put pen to paper requires care. Over the years, I’ve been lucky to receive countless letters from Star readers. I cherish them all, even the angry ones that encouraged me to do things that are anatomically impossible.
There is one letter I’ve been meaning to find in my files. It was sent years ago from someone who claimed an alien abduction. The first page detailed the encounter. Page two was like a Zodiac Killer cypher. The symbols were an alleged alien language this person was taught by her bug-eyed captors.
But I digress. Today’s question: do we still need cursive writing?
It made a comeback in Ontario two years ago after it was reintroduced to the curriculum. Even still, you’re unlikely to find a sixth grader holding a pencil outside of class. For young people, screens are notepads, fingers are pens.
But across the border, there is a movement to reanimate cursive.
Philadelphia Inquirer: “Should cursive writing make a comeback?” MSN: “Can learning cursive help kids read better? Akron Beacon Journal: “Schools were wrong to write off the benefits of teaching cursive to kids.” NewsNation: “Several states look to make cursive mandatory for students.”
It would be great if young people did not squint at flowing, joined letters like they were deciphering hieroglyphics. But it’s too late. With each passing year, cursive fades, just as fewer people can now darn socks or change a tire.
A study this year found 40 per cent of Gen Z are baffled by cursive. They don’t like it. They don’t want it. Cursive is not avocado toast. Cursive is a bigger trauma than shopping in person or making eye contact. Cursive is a waste of their time.
I’m a dinosaur who will always champion cursive.
But maybe the kids, riding shotgun with unstoppable tech, are on to something.
I used to think it was a myth when people said it’s impossible to read a doctor’s handwriting. How can that be true? Physicians are among our brightest. I’ve been chaperoning my elderly parents to medical appointments in recent months. At one for my dad, a specialist suggested a new drug and kindly jotted down a prescription.
People? It’s not a myth. I looked at that rectangle paper and wondered if the words were even in English. They looked like a seismograph. Or what a monkey might do with a Sharpie. But you know what’s strange? When I handed the prescription to the pharmacist, she glanced at it for a split second and said, “You can pick it up in 15 minutes.”
That’s when I realized cursive is creating winners and losers.
Should we embrace change and let old skills fade into the gossamer of nostalgia?
When I was a kid, we went on road trips to Harrisburg every summer. There was no GPS. My dad drove the station wagon, always too slow, as my mom sat in the passenger seat with a map in her lap. Did we often get shambolically lost? Yes. My exasperated dad once pulled over and scanned for a red building waypoint that would signal a right turn.
Instead, we were surrounded by cows.
Map reading is like cursive. It’s a lost art. I can’t imagine handing a map to one of my teen daughters and expecting them to find their way to a circled town. It would be like leaving them in a corn maze during a solar eclipse. Google Maps is how they navigate their world.
Our ancestors knew how to preserve jellies or make their own soap. You know what would happen if I tried to make my own soap? I’d give myself skin cancer. Or I’d come out of the shower smelling like moonshine.
Skills come and go over generational time.
What if you were lost in the woods during winter? Could you start a fire with two sticks? Forage? Seek shelter in the foliage? Nope. You’re going to freeze to death before your iPhone runs out of juice.
Why are there fewer suicide notes these days? Nobody can write! Why do airport arrivals take so long? Agents can’t read the customs declarations!
So is it time for cursive writing to die of natural causes?
Going to the market would be much easier if my wife typed out her shopping lists. She was a doctor in a past life. I am standing in Aisle 4 and scrutinizing her handiwork and have to guess if I should be buying pineapples or papayas.
The growing movement to keep cursive alive warms my heart.
But the cold reality is it is already dead.
